


I Remember You

by spaceleviathan



Series: Family of Frost [4]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, familial bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceleviathan/pseuds/spaceleviathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack regains his memories, and uses them to find out who his father is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Remember You

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I don't remember if Jack kept the tooth box. I think he did, so I'm going with that.

It was only after, when Pitch had been chased away into his dungeons and the children were safe, that Jack had any chance to stop and think about the memories he'd recovered.

They'd celebrated through the day with Jamie and his friends, until the night drew in and the children went thankfully to bed. After that, it was only a quick trip to the Santa's Workshop and another thrilling ride on the sleigh (Bunny had decidedly _not_ accompanied them) until they had sat down to talk and to cheer, Bunny arriving soon after themselves via his world-wide network of tunnels.

Jack hadn't had a spare moment to catch his breath, and it was such a wondrous feeling that he couldn't begin to rue it. He had friends now, companionship, a few strong believers and a life ahead of him. He hadn't considered that now would have been as good a time as any to look back into his past.

It had been Baby Tooth, who'd stuck by him so solidly through thick and thin during the whirlwind which had been these past few days, who made him recall the fact he now knew who he was.

He drew out the teeth which had been sequestered away inside his pocket, and looked down to them, his elation sobering as the memories churned up such complicated conflicts of emotion - he was glad of course that he knew himself now, but they were not happy recollections. They were ones which held great fear, as it had been all Jack had felt from as soon as he realised his sister was likely to drown, right up until the brief moment of relief, when he thought he'd succeeded, just to spend his last few seconds realising he was going to die.

He frowned at the box, at his link to his past, and Tooth took notice immediately.

"You found your memories." She said, although she already knew. She also knew without asking that he'd recovered at least one; the most important one. One that he was now realising didn't actually tell him much at all.

There was his sister, but he didn't know her name. There was even his mother, but he couldn't recall her face, only a brief moment of her happy voice. But he remembered the lake, which he'd so often haunted since he had been reborn as Jack Frost. It made sense now; why he felt such a strong connection to it. It had _killed_ him.

"Jack?"

Jack tried to smile, but a tinny echo of a young girl overcame Tooth's voice. She was saying the exact same thing in terror. She didn't want to fall in. She was screaming it when he did instead.

North was frowning at him worriedly, and Bunny had stopped in the middle of a delicate stroke of his brush over an eggshell. Sandy was watching him especially closely and Jack wondered how much the quiet spirit could read from his face. He was the most observant of the merry foursome.

Baby Tooth flitted around the box, looking between its golden glow and Jack's solemn eyes, distressed how quickly Jack's mood had shifted. She went to the lid, her tiny hands prompting him to open it.

Inside the teeth were lined up neatly, and he looked up to his friends.

"Who were you, Jack Frost?" North wondered softly, and Jack glanced to the tabletop, curling up in on himself. The cold was overwhelming, where it had for so long been only a comfort to him, as he was the spirit of winter. Now it reminded him that the last seconds of his mortal life he had suffocated on it. Cold had surrounded him, twisted him, filled his lungs and frozen his body from the inside out. So now there was no consolidation in the chill he usually relied on, not when he felt like he could drown all over again.

"I had a little sister." He told the Guardians, and they nodded encouragingly. He tried again to smile. "She was tiny, and our mother told us to be careful, but we weren't. I don't think we ever were."

Perhaps they could see where his tale was going, because their faces became steadily more blank, every hint of joy slipping from them as they followed his implications and were likely recalling a few of their own tragedies which had landed them this guardian gig.

"I saved her," he stated boldly, gladly, because he had and he was proud of it. "I saved her, but I couldn't get off the ice in time-" he stopped, a shiver crawling up his spine at the memory. Tooth put her hand over his, and Baby Tooth nestled into his cheek. He stroked the tiny tooth fairy, before looking up to the big one.

"Have you seen the other memories, Jack?" She asked, and he shook his head in reply. Smiling softly, pained as it was, she drew his hand towards a tooth until he made contact.

The same glare overcame him, a startling bright light that transported him to a long-forgotten scene where he could watch over himself like he was in a film. Yet, emotions lingered. Everything the brown-haired boy could feel, so could Jack Frost. With such blinding intensity, he felt it too.

It was warm when he opened his eyes again, mid-summer with a bright sun bearing down upon them. Instinctively, Jack Frost winced, but there was no discomfort as he was used to in such weather. Instead, there was a pleasant tingle, reminding him that he had once enjoyed the sun much more than the winter. Winter was a time of dark and cold, and sometimes even fear. People could die in winter. People _did_ die in winter.

Jack Frost spotted himself, dark-haired and laughing, as he sped across the forest floor. The strangest thing about the image, Jack Frost considered, was that he was wearing shoes.

His sister was there again, running behind him, calling for him to wait up. She was smaller than she had been on the day Jack had died. Her hair was not as long. A few other kids ran alongside him, all giggling as he was, or calling for him to wait as their little legs could not keep up. Not that he was going very fast, Jack immediately noticed. He was leaning heavily on his staff.

The knowledge seeped from the mortal Jack to Jack Frost, and he remembered all at once that his leg had been lame. An illness had infected it, causing the muscle to wither. Then his father had carved him this staff, and by the grace of the Lord his leg slowly started to work again.

They stopped when they came to the village, and Jack sent the children to their homes, imploring them to show their parents what they had gathered in the forest. Edible plants and pretty flowers and interesting stones and nuts and cones, the children had spent the day foraging under Jack's strict guidance. Where other boys his age had been taught to hunt and fight, Jack's father had decided to educate him instead. Jack's father was an outsider, Jack Frost could now recall, and was therefore not welcome to indulge in the usual traditions of the village. That included the hunts, which were always a group effort.

It was curse that turned out to be a blessing in disguise, however, when Jack's leg gave up on him. For a while, before he had been given his staff, Jack was thankful for the fact at least he could still be useful even as his body betrayed him.

When Jack and his sister came home, arms laden with food and curious objects and many, many herbs for both of their parents, their mother was out back collecting the eggs. Jack called to her through the window.

"We come bearing gifts!"

She looked up and Jack Frost knew her. He knew her face, her manner, her age, her habits, as if three hundred years had never passed between then and now. Abigail. Her name was Abigail.

"You're back late." She scolded, picking up her basket and hefting it inside the house. He held the door for her whilst his sister cleared a space on the table. The little girl had unloaded her arms alongside the pile Jack had heedlessly dumped upon the tabletop, and was now sorting through them. She, under strict orders from all of her relatives - her grandfather and grandmother included - left the herbs well alone. Jack went to browse through them instead as Abigail looked over their hoard.

"Impressive," she said with a soft smile, eying one or two of the leaves Jack had picked up with especially great distaste, but no less admiration for it. "Your father will be glad you found them."

"Only took a bit of luck," Jack shrugged, passing over the herbs for food to Abigail's open palm. The others were for his father, who used them in strange coloured concoctions which had a tendency to explode. The man had been the one to infect Jack with every ounce of mischief he held in his blood.

"I bet it did. An angel's grace I dare say, as well." Abigail had turned her back to put aside the eggs, as well as store the herbs appropriately. "Your father says they're notoriously hard to find in these areas."

Jack agreed. It had taken him the most part of the day, but he had found a cluster squirreled away, well hidden from the light under several layers of greens. He'd been lucky the other children hadn't found it first. They were always after the secrets behind Jack's father's tricks.

"Emma, don't eat that," Abigail snapped, and Jack Frost turned to look at the little girl in order to process this new information that did not feel new at all. _Of course_ , a voice in his mind whispered reverently. _Emma_. _How could I forget?_

"Sorry, mother." Emma apologised, putting down the nut she'd picked up.

"Where's father?" Jack asked, helping wash the mushrooms they had found as well as the vegetables his mother had unearthed this morning and not yet gotten around to cleaning. "Is he still working?

Jack's father worked wherever he was needed. He was an odd-jobs man, whom people didn't _like_ , per say, but they certainly had faith in his abilities. Unfortunately, it only drew even more negative attention to the man who was already the subject of heinous whispers and ugly rumours. Outside the household, no one could state a single thing Jack's father was not capable of. Inside the home, Jack could name five off the top of his head. Abigail was capable of pointing out a whole lot more. He couldn't weave, for example, nor did he have the patience to keep a garden, and he was wary of chickens, so he refused to deal with them whilst they were still alive. Which was fine, because chickens were Emma's favourites. If she was not out playing, Emma would be happy enough to feed them or collect the eggs.

He could skin an animal in seconds flat, however. Jack had never accompanied his father's during his solo hunting trips (since before his leg had given out he had been too young), but he had heard whispers in the town of his father's startling agility at it.

At Jack's question, Abigail laughed, letting Jack ease her burdens for a moment as Emma showed her the strange little trinkets they'd found dotted across the forest floor. One was a little carving, made out of bone, in the shape of a hammer. They think it had been dangling from one of the branches of the tree they'd found it under.

"No, he came home an hour ago. He's hiding now. Sulking, as he's prone to do."

Oh. That could only mean, "We're seeing grandfather tonight."

"We're going to gather the whole family."

That meant that they were going to grandfather's, who had a bigger house, and likely soon. Abigail would be helping Jack's grandmother prepare the food, along with the three wives of Jack's uncles.

"Can I help?" Emma asked, eager to spend time with the women, and Abigail agreed.

"Though I imagine your father will want to use you as a distraction." She looked to Jack as well as she said it, and Jack chuckled.

His father didn't get on with his grandfather. Jack didn't know the details, because they were never anything but civil towards each other, but they were certainly on bad terms underneath the surface. Not that it was saying much, since his father was on bad terms with most people. He would oftentimes call the villagers distrustful peasant miscreants, loudly and in public, as if that helped his antagonistic reputation any.

It had always seemed strange to Jack how precisely his parents got along, since his mother was bright and cheerful and refused to be brought down by any bad news or weather or tragedy, in comparison to Jack's father who had a tendency towards callousness, superiority and would drag you down with him if you gave him half a chance. Yet, the two of them were perfectly happy together, and when he was with Abigail Jack's father seemed to find contentment.

"Shall I go find him?" Emma offered, showing her mother the last of her prizes, and Abigail nodded, nudging her daughter along with a pat to her back.

"Tell him he's not getting out of this." She warned, and likely Emma had no need to, despite the affirmative she called back, considering the house was so small their father had probably heard.

"How long until he starts feigning illness to get out of this?" Jack whispered, laughing, and Abigail smiled, a little insolently towards her husband.

"I'm waiting for the day he deliberately breaks a bone to use as an excuse."

Through the house, Emma's little voice called out for "Papa! Papa, where are you?"

\--

Jack Frost pulled out of the memory, blinking a little to draw himself away from his daze.

"So?" North asked, in the same spot Jack had left him in. "What did you see?"

"My family," he smiled, feeling as elated as he had in the memory, all previous misery and fear muted in the face of such a simple but beautiful scene. "I had a family!" The revelation hit him all over again, especially now he had seen his mother. Beautiful Abigail, with the same brown hair and brown eyes as her children, the same sparkle to her as Emma had, and deep down, even a bit of trouble-making. She _had_ married the rabble-rouser to end all rabble-rousers, after all.

Which made Jack pause short, as he realised he still had no idea what his father's name was. His own father, and he didn't know what he was called. What further confused him was that he still didn't know his _own_ name. Jack, yes, but even he knew that it was only a nickname of the time, and further, there was no surname to end it with.

He tried not to let it show, however, as his friends cheered up and continued their celebrations. Soon enough, Jack found himself calming and going along with them.

\--

Jack looked to the teeth again later, perhaps a week afterwards, one night as he sat under the soft glow of Sandy's dreams waving on the wind.

"I want to know who my father is." He told the box, as if that would help direct him towards the memory he was looking for, as he brushed his finger over the small relics of his past.

When he opened his eyes this time, he found himself in his old kitchen again, his mother working in another room and his sister playing in the garden. The dusk was drawing in and he was chopping vegetables.

Watching on, Jack Frost's view flickered around the room, wanting to know if this was it, whether now was the time. There was someone approaching, and if he could have, he would have held his breath.

But it was not his father who came through the door - it wasn't even a man. Instead, a woman's head peeked in, glancing around warily and then looking to Jack. Jack shook his head, gesturing to the window. He knew what she wanted to know, as he could see what she was holding.

"She's outside." He said lowly, and his grandmother nodded, stepping in and passing over the dead chicken.

"She's so sensitive." She spoke softly, watching through the window to her granddaughter, who was so heedlessly chasing the chickens of their own. "I felt it'd be nice if you didn't have to go through the tears for one week."

"Are you staying?"

She shook her head. "I'd like to, but Jackson should be home soon."

Jack perked up. "Father, too?"

Jack Frost knew then that his father had been gone for half a week, tending to the outlying regions where the main bulk of farmland was. The crops were being harvested for the many villages which were in this area, and they needed all the help they could get. Many of the men and women who helped out did not bother to come home for the night, instead opting to sleep where there was space available. The men tended to sleep in the barns, whilst the women took the houses.

His grandmother nodded in confirmation, and, as if she had predicted it, the door opened and Abigail made a delighted noise and they heard her rush up to greet him, prompting a tut out of Jack's grandmother.

"No propriety, that girl," she muttered, but her eyes were soft. Jack was glad he was in the kitchen when he heard the sound of his parents embracing. "It's as if they hadn't seen each other for years."

Jack agreed, though he felt excited to see his father too. Jack Frost felt even more so, because for him it _had_ been years, and he watched the door avidly, waiting for the mysterious man to appear.

"Papa's home!" Jack called through the window, causing unnecessary squeals from his little sister as she barrelled in from the garden and headed straight into the main room, unconcerned about splitting her parents from each other's arms.

His father's name came to him then, as Jack put down the knife and stepped towards the door with his grandmother in tow.

His name was Loki, and Jack was a Lokison.

Jack Frost started as soon as his dark-haired counterpart walked through the doorway, and he simply stared upon the man whilst the brown-haired boy rushed towards him.

"Papa, I've missed you!" Emma was gushing, and he had her arms around his neck, her body resting on his hip. Loki reached out to greet his son, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Evening all." He spoke, and Jack Frost knew those smooth tones. Of course he did, as he always had. Of course he recognised him, even when he first had laid eyes upon him three-hundred years ago. "I've missed you too. Charity! I didn't expect to see you." He swooped his appallingly tall height down to politely kiss his mother-in-law's cheek. "Jackson is home."

"I best be gone, then." She left quickly, smiling at the reunited family.

"She brought a chicken," Abigail whispered into her husband's ear, so little Emma could not hear her. Loki - and wasn't it odd to have a name for that face - nodded understandingly, holding his little girl closer affectionately.

It was strange for Jack Frost to look upon this visage and see a happy man, a smiling man, where he had only ever known the sombre and angry side of this man. Once he had drawn the joy from that man's expression, but only once, and so long ago.

Now he had multiple layers to know him by. Jack Frost could now recall that Loki was witty and quick and skilled and clever, and funny and loving and occasionally hateful, but never to his family, whom he held with such high regard.

Now Jack Frost realised just why he was always drawn back to that illusive enigma; this man who had always been his father.

When he returned to reality from the past, he swore he would find him.

Loki. His father, who was not human, who was still alive, who was still out there waiting for Jack, looking for Jack. And Jack, who could get his family back.

\--

Thrilled as he was, Jack wanted to tell the Guardians. It was hard to pin Tooth down, but she made an exception when she saw the jubilation on the winter spirit's face. Jack was shamelessly exploiting the soft-spot he knew she had for him, even teaming up with Baby Tooth who supported him without any prompting.

The other Guardians were easier, as Bunny and North's respective holidays were not close enough to hinder them, and Sandman was always happy for company during the day.

They grouped at the North Pole, of course, because it symbolised them as a group, at least in Jack's mind. This is where they had first gathered, and where they had all mourned, and where they had celebrated once the fight was won. This was where they were most at home, and so they all settled down inside North's crowded office and Jack told them everything.

"Emma!" He said, grinning ear to ear. "She's called Emma, and she likes chickens!"

Tooth nodded eagerly, the name as familiar to her as it was to Jack, and the teeth even more so.

"She had the sweetest little lateral incisor!" She gushed, making the spirits chuckle.

"My mother! She looked just like me! Only female, with brown hair and brown eyes," he saw the looked his friends were sending him, and realised that they wouldn't know.

" _I_ had brown hair and brown eyes!" He clarified, before moving straight on. "And I know who my father is now!" Which was why he was so excited in the first place. "I even know he's alive!"

 _That_ garnered a reaction, and North looked particularly conflicted, as if he wanted to impart some sad news.

"Jack, that was many years ago," he started, as if Jack was an idiot.

"I've seen him." Jack interrupted. "He's not a human, and I've _seen_ _him_ several times since waking up. I just didn't realise who he was! Isn't this great?"

Confused, but happy for him, North nodded. "Certainly! That you can be reunited with your father is wonderful!"

"Who is he?" Bunny asked, curious as they all were about the 'not human' part. " _What_ is he, if he isn't human?"

Jack shrugged, unknowing. He hadn't known his father was anything but mortal when he'd been alive, and since then he hadn't known the important of learning. "I'll find him again eventually. I always do. I don't think he ages."

"An immortal like us? On Earth?" Tooth looked to her fellow Guardians, especially Sandman, who held out his hands in confusion. Not even he knew who it could be.

"We haven't heard anything about him, but then if he's not from around here I wouldn't suspect he'd announce himself." Bunny admitted before looking again, as they all did when they needed questions answering, to Sandy. Jack prepared himself for a fast-paced game of charades. He never won.

All Sandy did was glance pointedly over to Jack with a question mark posed above his head. Jack furrowed his brow, not sure what the guardian of dreams was asking him for. North translated.

"What's his name? Your father."

"Oh! His name is Loki." Jack stated blithely, unprepared for the reaction he received upon imparting this titbit of knowledge.

Tooth gasped, and Bunny dropped his paintbrush. Above Sandy's head an exclamation mark appeared, seemingly despite himself, but Jack was glad to note Baby Tooth was just as confused as he was.

North's reaction was perhaps the worst and had Jack's good mood crashing around his feet. The usually cheerful man's shoulders slumped, and all he managed was a deep sigh.

It had Jack's defences up on instinct, and he stepped back from where he stood, watching the Russian warily.

"What?" He said, because he knew that North was going to tell him the worst of the worst, and he wasn't ready for it. North met his eyes, deep blue to ice, and, truly, he didn't need to say the words which followed.

"He died, Jack."

Of course he did. After three hundred years of stubbornly haunting Jack across the globe, the moment Jack wanted to find him he was gone. _Of course_ he was.

Jack choked on a breath, fleeing the room, ignoring the guardian's protests. He caught the wind as soon as he was outside, and he tried not to get angry. This was just like Loki to do, and Jack shouldn't have expected anything else.

His father had always been a contrary bastard, even when Jack was alive. Why would now be any different?

\--

He returned to the North Pole when he had calmed down, but it was several days later and he knew he'd worried his friends.

Bunny and Sandman were still there waiting for him, and Jack wasn't betrayed by the fact Tooth wasn't. The woman was the only one of the Guardians who constantly worked.

Baby Tooth was present and accounted for, however, as well as being the first to greet him after Phil the Yeti ushered him in.

"Jack, where have you been?" North boomed, consuming him within a mighty hug.

"I'm fine." He told the sudden crowd of people who had clearly fretted about him. It made him warm inside, along with guilt-tripping him, which worked best at reinforcing the fact he had _friends_ now. "I'm fine. Really."

Later,  North told him how he knew Jack's father. He told him more about Jack's father in one afternoon than Jack had learnt in his entire lifetime.

"I'm Asgardian royalty?" He gaped, and North had beamed at him.

"Da! Congratulations! But don't expect us to start calling you 'highness' or giving you any special treatment. Not all princes end up on the nice list." He wagged his finger at Jack, before Bunny nudged him to continue.

"Further, your father is a skilled sorcerer, as well as a warrior."

Sorcery was as much of a shock to Jack as the fact his father was an alien prince from ancient Viking beliefs, but the warrior aspect was not. Jack had seen his father fight when he was young, sometimes to train younger men seeking to be stronger, and sometimes to avenge any wrongful deed or slight made towards his family. Sometimes it was simply for the sport, when he had decided the villagers had grown too comfortable around him and were starting to relax. Loki found it humorous to keep people on the edge of their seats, second guessing his motives and making them ever nervous. Jack was exactly the same.

Loki was a brilliant fighter, who wiped the floor with anyone wishing to challenge him. It was why young men went to ask for his tutor, even against their fathers' wishes, since he'd been the best. Loki turned down some, accepted others, and even taught a few girls in the village. Emma, even at her age when Jack died, was able to defend herself against most of the children they played with if the games got too rough. And Jack, with his weak leg hindering his every move, had been taught how to disarm a man twice the size of him without pushing himself too far.

So, no, being told Loki was a warrior came as no great surprise.

North went on to explain that the Asgardians knew of MiM and Pitch, and by association they knew of the Guardians. North himself had met them, and found many of them of like-mind to himself: loud and aggressive, but full of laughter and merriment. Loki had been the opposite, though North admitted that he'd held the most wonder of any of the Æsir.

Loki was a man out of place in the world he came from, who did not fit in with his family or his friends or his peers. Jack interrupted to state that hadn't changed then. That village had been no place for Asgardian royalty, certainly not a man like Loki, who was too clever and restless for his own good.

He lived too much, North then stated, which confused Jack greatly.

"We are immortal, Jack. Since you awoke, have you felt the need to rush? Have you felt the ticking of the clock, or the weight of the passage of time? No, none of us have. Not since being made Guardians. It is because we do not need to. Humans do, because they have a finite amount of life to live, and if they do not use every second then they are wasting it, but it is the culture and the urge of the immortals to pace themselves, to experience the world and let the humans do the rushing about for us.

"And then there is Loki, who was always known for his strange ways. He was captivated by travelling since he was young, by seeing new things, by learning new things, and no one thought anything of it until he found this planet. Then, he adapted to it, and his thirst for more was recognised as a man who was living his life as if every moment could be his last.

"He lived so much that he experienced every aspect of life that he could. He has known joy and pleasure as no other immortal has, Jack," North admitted with a strained smile. "But he has also known the pain of a thousand lifetimes. Each loss has been heavier than the last.

"It has been whispered that these last few hundred years have changed Loki. Much of his time before had been spent on other worlds, and the majority of that on this one, but he has not left Asgard except for brief visitations of only a few years or less for over two centuries."

The assembled Guardians were watching Jack sadly, willing him to understand what North meant so they didn't have to explain. Jack had caught on quickly, but his emotions were once more trying to overtake him, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with them again.

"That was me, wasn't it? He left because of me."

"He held out until his wife died, and he went back to Asgard." Bunny said, regretting it when Jack turned horrified eyes to him.

"And Emma?" Jack was almost too scared to ask. Little Emma, who was so small and young and wonderful.

"Old age." North said, and it was clear they had taken the time this past week to find everything they could about his family for this very occasion. "She was 97 years old."

Jack swallowed, before returning the subject to his father.

"How did he die?"

North and Bunny shared a nervous glance, so Jack turned to Sandy. Sandy quickly looked to his feet.

"Jack," a heavy hand came to rest on his cold shoulder, and North was suddenly looming above him, leading him to a chair. "Sit down."

"Tell me." He demanded, voice thick in his throat.

"We don't entirely know." Bunny finally blurt out apologetically. "It happened a few years ago, and we only found out because we realised the Bifrost had stopped working, and MiM told us that something had happened in New Mexico regarding Thor.

"North's got his snow globes, though, so we were able to get around it, and we got talking to some locals. We were just curious, is all, but we found out there had been an altercation between the princes." He swallowed, looking back to his friends nervously, Sandy looking wretched at not being able to help while North was nodding, urging Bunny on. "The Bifrost is a bridge that connects their world to the rest of the universe, but it's also a real bridge that hovers over the edge of the world of Asgard," he explained, and Jack started to realise where this was going. His hands clenched into fists, and he regulated his breathing as Bunny continued. "There was a battle with his brother, and he fell into the void. I'm sorry, Jack."

Jack was staring at his hands, slump in North's oversized armchair, energy drained from him and the grief of this last week numbed to dejected acceptance. The Guardians weren't sure what to do, how to comfort the newest member of their group, who was still so young, but had been through so much. He was losing the last thing which had tied him to his mortal life; the one thing which had so recently brought him such delight.

North came to his side and put his arm around Jack's shoulder. Helplessly, Jack leaned his head against North's rotund belly and closed his eyes.

\--

"Jackson! Loki!" Abigail called out, as father and son ran into the centre of the village, laughing as they fled. "You insolent children! I'll have your hides!"

Emma was in her father's arms, squealing in delight at the speeds he could manage with his long legs. Jack's own leg was almost completely healed, and was functioning in a way Jack had not known it even could. He was utilising it to its full potential now, dashing across the land, marvelling over the fact he didn't even need to use his staff.

He looked to his father as they ran away from the destruction they had caused across half the village, and the reason why Abigail was so lividly screaming after them.

Jack looked to his father, and his father caught his eye. They were emerald green and sparkling with amusement. He winked at his son as if sharing some mischievous secret, and then dashed on ahead.

Jack pushed his newly-working muscles onwards, determined to beat his father in something for once.

\---

Jack caught the news one evening as he was skimming his finger over windows, creating his little designs and enjoying the peace of the evening after a hectic and exciting day playing with the children. 

He was in Wisconsin, and he hadn't meant to overhear, but when the words 'disaster' and 'alien' popped up, he couldn't help but pay attention.

The revelation that he was half-alien still hadn't quite sunk in, though he'd been trying to avoid thinking about it since North told him about Loki. He'd been trying to avoid the teeth as well, because despite the fact many of the memories were nothing but happiness, they left him mourning evermore when he re-emerged to face the truth. His family was gone, he'd missed it by so much, and it was something he'd forever regret.

North kept on insisting he couldn't have done anything to change it. He didn't know, and even if he had Loki would not have been able to see him.

 _But he could tell I was there! He always could!_ Jack had returned, desperately and a little lost, and North could only hug him, unable to make things right.

The news in the mortal's living room showed signs of a major attack on New York city. Unidentified hostile aliens had come down to earth through a gaping portal in the sky, and only the world's mightiest heroes had been able to stop them.

A Viking face flashed up on the screen, blond and large and eerily familiar, and then Jack was off, taken to the skies and deciding that May was not too late for a little bit of snow for good old NYC.

\--

Loki came home one day, and his face was a frightful picture. Within his fist he held a piece of parchment, crackling and aged, covered in strange symbols which Jack was sure he recognised from religions the clergy classified as 'evil'.

Abigail picked it up hesitantly when Loki threw it to the table and stormed to stare into the fire. In the centre of the room he seethed, and even tiny Emma, who was only just beginning to walk, looked away from her game in concern.

Jack leaned over his mother's shoulder to try and make sense of the sharp lines scrawled across the page, but could decipher none of it. Not a lot of the people in the village could read, but his father had insisted his family learn, yet this had been in none of his instructions.

"I don't understand," Abigail spoke tentatively into the room, and Loki huffed, snatching the parchment away and throwing it into the flames. "Where have you been?" She asked instead.

"I had business elsewhere," he replied, as enigmatic as usual. "I received this by raven whilst I was away."

"By raven?" Abigail questioned, unsure whether to take it as a blessing or a curse. Loki, it appeared, had decided it was the latter.

"You need not fret, woman," he sighed. "'Tis my brother's hand."

"Brother?" Jack asked. "You have a brother? What's his name? Why haven't I met him? What did he say?"

Jack's stream of questions could be excused by his age and his boredom. He was ever-curious and stuck in the house with an increasingly painful leg, and the idea of an estranged uncle was straight out of one of Loki's exciting tales. His mother preferred to read from the bible, but his father was one to gather them in the evenings around the fire and gesticulate enthusiastically, speak wildly of impossible things, assured in the confidence that - whilst his wife called his stories unholy - his children were captivated by them.

"He speaks of visiting. He wishes to know why I haven't kept in contact."

Abigail looked concerned. Her brow was creased, and her lips were stern, but she appeared to be holding her tongue for fear of offending her spouse. However, her worries proved to be too much for her to contain.

"He's not like... you, is he?"

"Certainly not." Loki snapped, before realising what his wife truly referred to. "Ah, you mean my culture. Yes, we do share that, at least. Rest assured, lady, I'll not allow him near the house." He promised. "Nor, in fact, the village. I'll certainly have to meet him, else he will come charging in like a wild bull with no decency for others' comforts, but it will be away from here. Have no fear."

When the time came, only a few days later, when Loki didleave in the evening to meet his brother, Jack snuck out the back, fighting his leg whilst he tried to keep up with the long strides of his father.

He hid in the shrubbery once, when Loki heard his shuffles and glanced behind him inquiringly. However, he seemed to find nothing suspicious and Jack let go of a thankful breath. He almost fell over, his leg giving out completely, when they were near the lake. Luckily, that seemed to be where Loki had promised to meet his brother.

When Jack had heard of Thor, he'd imagined someone very similar in looks to his father. He'd seen the way siblings resembled each other, as he and Emma were growing to, and therefore he'd pictured a dark-haired, green-eyed, insufferably tall and lithe gentlemen much like his father was. However, when Jack gazed upon his uncle for the first time, as the man turned to face the noises within the trees as Loki emerged from the forest, the boy could scarcely pinpoint even one recognisable feature between he and Loki.

He was blond and hulking, more like a lumberjack than anything Loki claimed to be, with arms as big as Jack and twice as wide and the brightest of blues in place of eyes. No doubt, had the two met in the sun, his hair would have glinted like spun gold.

"Brother!" Thor exclaimed, throwing his arms around his sibling, and despite Loki's grumbles over the past few days, he found himself grinning and earnestly returning the embrace. "Mine eye hast not looked upon thine visage for many a year! You look well!"

"'Tis no fault of mine thou hast not deigned my soul with a visit, dear brother." Loki returned, smiling, not letting Thor free from his embrace as Thor did not let his arms leave Loki's shoulders either. "Your own idleness hast led to you abandon me here whilst you gorge yourself upon many a splendorous feastings and parties!"

It was not unusual to hear his father speak so strangely, with such artistry and colour, because it confused many of his peers and made people angry when they could not completely comprehend what he was attempting to communicate. Or deliberately miscommunicate as the case could be. Further, if one were to get Jack's father truly angry, he'd sink into the curious foreignness of his delicate words, which were so cutting and odd. It outlined how apart he stood from the rest of this crowd of what he considered to be petty villagers, and it made him seem untouchable.

Here, however, it was spoken as if it were the norm, and seemed only loving as they conversed.

"We hast indeed left the halls of Asgard, you deceptive cur!" Thor proclaimed in his own defence, chortling. "Pray, many tales have been spoken of since you left, and will be adventures passed along by word of mouth for centuries!"

"I will no doubt have time to hear them, once I find myself home-bound."

"But when do you speak of, Loki?" Thor wondered, and Jack did too. His father was leaving? He couldn't leave them. He _wouldn't_ leave them, the notion was ridiculous. He may be taking them all away! Perhaps it was for the better, since this village was clearly the worst place for Loki to be, and whilst Jack would miss his grandparents, perhaps Loki's own mother and father were still living, and he'd find new family and friends with his uncle Thor and the people they lived around.

"Not for many moons yet, brother." Loki replied, dashing Jack's increasingly fantastical thoughts of this new home.

Thor had let Loki go and taken a step back, but kept his hand upon his sibling's shoulder. He looked him in the eye and very seriously asked: "When?"

Loki's mood shifted in an instant, and he forcibly shoved the hand away from him, growling.

"He sent you, did he not? Well then, you can tell father that I will not be cowed by his orders, nor will I comply whilst he perches atop that throne when I live here, separate from his rulings. Thou shouldst return and inform his majesty that I shall return, but not until _I_ am ready."

Thor was watching him softly as the tirade wore on and the fire fled his brother the longer it lasted. When the blond man spoke, it was carefully, as if Loki were a distressed damsel, likely to startle and take off as an injured animal would. "You have made a family? There are children?"

Loki nodded stiffly, watching his brother steadily, and Jack couldn't explain why his father looked so frightened. Thor did not seem scary, even for all his bulk. Rather, the man seemed more akin to the oversized stuffed toys Emma was partial to.

"Do not speak of this, else be it your head." Loki warned, lowly and enough to send a shiver through even Jack, who knew he had nothing to be afraid of even when his father was at his angriest. Thor only nodded, and embraced his brother again.

"May I look upon them?" He wondered, but Loki stuck to the promise he made his wife and shook his head. "What be their names?"

"Abigail, my wife." Loki muttered lowly, hesitantly. "My son, Jackson and my daughter, Emma."

Thor smiled sadly and started to back away. "I did not realise. I wouldn't have come if-"

"I know." Loki cut across him, watching his departure. "I know, brother." There was something unspoken between them, something that Jack had no knowledge of, and something which he knew he'd never ask about. Regret and guilt stained Thor's brow as he walked in the opposite direction of the village, looking away only at the last minute, and sorrow painted it's sad picture across Loki's face as he looked after his sibling for many long minutes.

Silence overcame the clearing, and it was only then that Loki turned towards Jack's tree.

"Jackson," he said sharply, making Jack squeak and try to hide further behind his tree. "Come here, boy."

Cautiously, unsure of how angry his father would be as he'd been ill-prepared for the possibility of being caught, Jack stepped out of the plants and stepped before Loki, who was sternly staring him down.

"Come," he eventually said after an elongated stretch of tense nothingness. He held out a hand and meekly Jack took it. "Homewards, my son, and to bed with you. The night draws on."

"Why will you not return to your home?" Jack wondered out loud as they journeyed through the trees. "You could take us with you."

"You would not like my home, Jack." Loki smiled bitterly, picking him up when he realised Jack was struggling. "Your leg is getting worse." He mused and Jack confirmed his suspicions.

"I'll make you something to ease it." He promised, leaning his head against Jack's when Jack yawned and nestled into his father's collarbone. "I'll make you better, my child, I swear."

\--

Jack remembered Thor, and easily recognised him from the brief snatches he'd see flash across the TVs all over America. Likely all over the world.

The destruction in New York was unspeakable, but already repairmen were working on it, and droves of cleaning crews were tidying the street. Already people were returning to work, unless the building had been utterly decimated. There were many that had been, but there were also many more which had not.

The roads were the priority at the moment, it seemed, but they were getting fixed up startlingly swiftly, and Jack was, as always, amazed by the human condition to simply pick up the pieces and move on.

He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to come to a fairly unthreatening planet and wreak this much mayhem. He couldn't imagine _who_ , either.

There had been grainy footage of the aliens: ugly, monstrous beasts who were more animals than advanced beings and, despite their technology, were easily killed. The bodies had been cleared away by several secret organisations, the main one being SHIELD, and it was in their direction that Jack now headed.

He flitted around the helicarrier, which was a massive, ridiculous ship which was also a hovercraft, which was breathtaking and absolutely insane, and it was like he was discovering the inside of North's workshop for the first time all over again. Not as sensitive to his presence as the yetis were, the humans only felt a slight chill as Jack bypassed their Stark-tech security system and found himself on the main deck.

A lot of activity was still going on concerning what had been dubbed _The Battle of New York_. General Nicholas Fury was sitting at a large table across the way, talking with what could only be what they were calling _The Avengers_. Every super hero, old and new, from Captain America to the Hulk (in a slightly less green and angry state, Jack saw), were gathered around and reviewing footage and discussing tactics.

Heart-stoppingly, at least for Jack, he saw Thor at that table too, though he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was, since Thor was the entire reason he'd come to investigate what had happened here only a few days ago.

He drifted over to the group, accidentally freezing a few monitors whilst he travelled and making one or two SHIELD agents swear, and perched unseen in the centre of the table.

Tony Stark, the infamous Iron Man, suddenly shivered, rubbing at his arms which were covered only by a thin black hoodie and the short sleeves of a t-shirt. "Did it just drop, like, ten degrees?"

Jack nodded agreeably, but the other Avengers rolled their eyes.

"I'm not catering to your every passing complaint, Stark." General Fury, a scary one-eyed man in a trenchcoat, snarled. "Deal with a little bit of cold and pay attention."

Jack largely ignored the subject matter, staring fully, instead, at Thor. He seemed withdrawn and solemn, which was completely against the man which Jack's memories had shown him. On the rare occasion Jack had managed to get his father talking about his brother, Loki had never depicted Thor as the sombre type.

"What's wrong, uncle?" he asked, addressing Thor for the first time, as a little bit of hope for that family he'd been missing out on these past three-hundred years crept up towards his heart again, even though he knew it to be a foolish hope. "What happened to you?"

Perhaps he was still mourning Loki's death. It wasn't unusual for siblings as close as they had seemed to  have been to do so, as Jack had not even _allowed_ himself to think on Emma's life and demise, for fear he'd never recover.

Thor glanced up, no doubt feeling the way Jack was creeping towards him, and looked as Loki had always done, straight into the space where Jack crouched.

"A spirit is here." He spoke, his voice unchanged from those centuries past, strong and other-worldly, and he captured the attention of the entire table who'd previously been bickering over something irrelevant to Jack's interests.

"A spirit?" Captain America asked, whilst the two SHIELD agents armed themselves quickly. The human Hulk and Tony Stark did not seem convinced, however.

"You mean like a ghost?"

"I mean like an elemental sprite."

"I'm both. I'm also a Guardian." Jack confirmed, but none of them heard him. Thor had stood and taken a step back, watching where Jack was uneasily.

"Who are you?"

Jack shrugged, unable to answer. There was very little in here he could manipulate, and certainly not enough to interact as he had done with Loki over fifty years ago. Had it truly been so long since he'd last seen him? Due to his recovered memories, Jack felt as if it had only been yesterday when he had been picked up and carried home by his strange, gentle father.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do, big man." He admitted, and flitted around their heads in an attempt to assure them all he was truly there.

"'Tis why you felt the temperature plummet, Man of Iron." Thor informed his comrade, and Tony looked to Fury accusingly.

"And you thought I was making it up."

"Stark, you're not entirely known for your rationality."

"That's a poor apology, Nick. You're going to have to do better than that."

"Do I look like I'm trying to get your forgiveness?"

"Well, you won't with that attitude."

Jack had been distracted by the exchange between the general and the engineer, so didn't realise Thor had reached out to him until he felt a hand pass him through. Jack shuddered. He hadn't felt that in a while. Not since Jamie started believing in him, anyway.

"Oi, watch it!" He exclaimed uselessly, whilst Thor looked to his hand curiously.

"There is definitely a winter spirit here."

" _The_ winter spirit, I think you'll find." Jack corrected, flicking his uncle's face. Thor scrunched up his nose and batted him away.

"Is it a threat?" The red-haired SHIELD agent questioned, pointing her wrist towards Jack's general vicinity, and Jack startled, shooting up, thankful when her aim did not follow him. Thor's gaze, however, did.

"I do not know who it is, nor what they want."

"Unknown personnel, no matter what species they are, are not allowed in here. How do we get it out?" Fury snapped, and Jack raised his hands in invisible surrender.

"Whoa, now, guns are a no-no." They wouldn't hurt him, or even touch him, but he didn't like the threat they posed.

"If it is unable to communicate with me, likely it is the same with others." Thor explained. "I do not believe it to be a threat."

"What makes you so sure?" The male SHIELD agent with a bow and arrow questioned.

"A winter spirit would not have to exude a great deal of energy for it to hurt us."

"He's right. Not that I would. I mean, you guys just saved the world from aliens." Jack inserted, trying not to paint himself a villain, not that it did anything.

"So I can't do anything about it if this thing decides it wants to kill me?"

Thor shook his head. "Sprites are known for their mischief, not for evil."

"Yeah?" Fury sneered. "Well, you said that about Loki as well."

If anything was capable of getting Jack's attention, _that_ was it.

"Loki?" He said, jumping towards Fury and crowding his space. The human looked put out by it, barking at Thor to get the demented _thing_ away from him. "What about Loki? Did you know him? Did you all know him? Wait," he stepped back and glanced to his uncle, confusion following rational thought which had briefly been overthrown by desperation. He yelled at the one-eyed human. "Evil? No! My father was _never_ evil."

And it was true. Loki was many things, and even with the blinkers Jack had which was his parental idolisation, never had Loki approached evil. Cruel, once or twice, yes, but not evil.

Jack didn't even know anyone who was evil. As far as he was concerned, not even Pitch was _truly_ so. Twisted, broken and nasty, certainly, and Jack couldn't deny it, but he'd also seen the look on Pitch's face when he'd said no to him. That spoke of loneliness and betrayal, and he'd lashed out accordingly. But, even after all the horrors Pitch did, could Jack proclaim he was evil. _No one_ was.

"What's he talking about?" He looked again to Thor, who didn't understand the sudden flickering of Jack's anxieties, nor why the room had gotten ever colder, nor why this unknown spirit was flitting around him agitatedly.

"My brother?" He hazard a guess, and Jack touched his bare forearm, making the blond hiss. It was a quick way of giving acknowledgement. "It's to do with Loki." He informed the assembled group, before turning back to Jack. "What of him?"

No reaction from Jack had Tony Stark rolling his eyes. "He can't talk. Yes or no answers, Thor. Is it on Loki's side, for example?"

"Are you?"

Jack didn't understand why Thor sounded so dark, or why Iron Man so accusing, as they asked their question. He didn't answer out of fear of picking the wrong option.

"Is it peaceful?" The human Hulk asked, and _that_ Jack could answer. Thor knocked his hand away instinctively when Jack prodded his arm again.

"It comes with peaceful intents." Thor confirmed, and the general tone of the audience relaxed, even if only minutely.

"Is it a spy?"

Jack prodded the opposite arm, prompting Thor to shake his head, relaying the message. "It proclaims nay."

"I don't believe it." Fury spat, ever the paranoid bastard.

Jack wasn't sure how he was supposed to reply to that. _Tough luck_ was a hard sentiment to translate.

"It will have to do." Thor said instead, sighing heavily. "Is your will with my brother peaceful as well?"

Yes, it was. Thor seemed gladdened by the fact, though the team did not share his joy. 

"Why did it react to Loki?" The archer wished to know, arrow still strung despite Jack's insistence he was no threat.

"Do you know Loki? Personally?" Thor asked, and Jack replied _yes_. "Do you wish to see him?"

Jack froze, startled by the question, sickened by the possibility of what the words implied. Did Thor mean his grave (for surely, if he fell into a void, there could be no body to recover), or did his uncle mean something else...

"No. No way a spirit is seeing my prisoner." The general spat, putting his hand down firmly on the table. Jack fell from where he hovered in shock, landing firmly on his feet, but having to hold on to a chair to keep his balance. Thor's eyes followed his descent.

"Prisoner? He's alive?" Jack gasped.

"I think we surprised the spirit. Did you not know, little one?"

With a shaking hand, Jack stretched his fingertips to Thor's bicep, because _no,_ he bloody well had _not_.

"If the spirit wants to see the goddamn bastard, I'll put some of the videos on." Fury snapped, his hands flickering over a touch-screen computer, and the surrounding monitors flickering away from blankness into life. Jack stared upon them, startled by the images. Many were taken from a skyscraper, on a high-tech surveillance camera overlooking a large balcony. Stark Tower, most likely.

And there, shining golden in the sun's bright beams, stood the one and only Loki, arms stretched wide, smiling toothily, watching on as the world before him burned.

\--

He couldn't help himself. He returned to the teeth. The image of that maniacal face, the heinous laughter, how he had revelled in his destruction, would not leave Jack's mind.

He had echoed Pitch, in a way. The cruelty, the need for power, and the hazy edge to him, as if he wasn't all there.

It unsettled Jack for multiple reasons. One being that it hadn't been the man Jack had known, even in the times he'd met Loki throughout the centuries. Another being that _that_ was his father. It was also someone who certainly wasn't the man in his memories. Jack wondered which one was the real Loki, and his urge to fight the lure of his past was too strong for him to resist.

He needed a memory to explain this, because he did not understand.

He had left the helicarrier in a hurry, sweeping past his uncle and the Avengers with more force than was necessary; the reaction was much the same as when North told him Loki was dead. Jack wasn't sure what to believe now. He had seen evidence that Loki was living and breathing dated not two days ago, but likewise he also knew that North had been telling the truth. He had no idea what had happened to his father, but he tried to align it with his own recollections as he once again sunk into the past.

He found himself watching as his father fought a man from the village, who was twice the width of him, but had nothing approaching the skill. They were in the centre of the little town, trying to dodge the fire-pits. Loki was graceful as a dancer, where his opponent was furious and wild.

Jack was caught in the gathered crowd, all of whom displayed a range of emotions. Some were as horrified as he was, and it was only by the grace of his grandfather's arm which held Jack back from trying to assist his father. His leg was no trouble to him now, so he could easily defend and fight before Loki got hurt.

There were other people, however, who were egging the man on, cursing Loki's name openly.

"A devil among us! Get him, man!" They called, but Jack's uncles and aunts were taking care of them with nasty words and sharp elbows. They may not like Loki, but he was still their family.

Both took blows, and then the man - his name was Adam - managed to catch Loki with a knife under his ribs. Jack had heard Emma screaming, whilst Abigail was trying to keep her in the house. Jack could see his mother struggling to remain as well. Charity was their ultimate restraints, holding close both her daughter and granddaughter, protecting them from the worst.

Loki stepped back, spitting out blood as it bubbled up his throat. He glanced to Jack, who was straining against Jackson to reach him, before smiling to Adam with red teeth, stopping everyone in their tracks, paralysing more than one person with terror. A devil among us, indeed.

He stalked close to Adam then and Adam finally lost nerve. Where before he had been chortling over his success, now he scrambled backwards in an attempt to escape.

He was much too slow, and Loki soon had him by the neck and raised from the ground.

"I had thought to take your tongue for the slanders you have spread, Tanner," he hissed, "But now I think it'll be your hands. Let me see you work without them." And he drew his own dagger from within the folds of his ever-intricate clothes, serrated and ugly and sharp, and it had been only Jack's protests which caused his father to stop.

People swarmed towards Adam when Loki dropped him, after he'd looked over to his son. Of all the other angry or pleading yowls, the green-eyed man had only heard one.

They took Adam away - Adam who was nearly death with suffocation, coughing and bruised and bleeding. Adam, who had nearly been fated to something much worse than death. Adam, who'd nearly fallen victim to a brutality Jack hadn't known his father was capable of.

Loki dropped the knife, stepping forwards, but Jackson had pulled his own weapon and was brandishing it at him.

"You come a step closer," he warned, slashing it through the empty air splitting them apart, and Loki eyed the man spitefully. Never before had he looked closer to murdering Jackson than then and there. Despite his constant threats within the home, Jack had never believed him capable of it until that moment.

"Go home, Jack." Loki ordered, and the boy looked, for once, to his grandfather for guidance.

Jackson didn't glance back at him, simply gestured in the right direction, and it had Jack running.

"I want you _gone_ ," he heard his grandfather spit out, and by then Jack was terrified, desperate for his mother's arms. "You will leave my family alone!"

" _Your_ family?" Loki roared, trying to take another step closer. "They're mine!" But he keeled over when the injury in his side flared up, dragging him down in pain. Jack was at the house now, staring with his grandmother out the window in horror.

"Father," he whispered to the wind, but the wind didn't help him; didn't allow Loki to hear him.

Jackson shakily pointed his knife down to the kneeling man, who still seemed dangerous despite his defenceless position.

"Stay away from them."

What undermined his threat, however, was how Abigail had suddenly appeared at her husband's side, and yelled up at her father. "He's not going anywhere!"

Bloody hands clung to her, leaving red smears across her sleeves, and Loki turned his face into her neck.

"Come," she said, gently, before addressing Jackson once more. "I will not have you threatening my husband, even after all his foolishness." Loki didn't do so much as protest. Jack wondered if he had fainted from blood loss.

Despite her stature, she managed to march his body to the household, where she snapped at her mother to take the children for the night.

"I need to have words with him, and you need to have words with _him_." She gestured to where Jackson stood outside, unsure and furious, and Charity nodded, picking up Emma and leading Jack with a hand to his back.

"Why was he fighting?" Jack asked when they arrived at the house next door and his grandmother settled him into a spare bed.

"He was defending your mother." She said softly. "Men like your father are prone to take slights against his loved ones personally."

"She won't thank him for it." Jack stated, and Charity agreed.

"Not now he has a hole in his side, no."

Which brought up all kinds of thoughts which Jack did not want to dwell on. He felt as if he might cry.

"Is he going to die?"

"No, of course not." Charity ran her fingers through his hair and was thankful Emma had long since sobbed herself into unconsciousness. This would only distress her further. "He'll be alright by tomorrow. You'll see."

\--

Jack saw him in the flesh not a day after his visit to SHIELD, when Thor was taking his brother back to Asgard.

Loki's face was half-covered by a horrifying gag, and his hands in cuffs, and it was all Jack could manage not to turn tail and leave again. He was the guardian of _fun_ , for crying out loud! When had his life turned into such an emotional drama?

He couldn't help but hover and watch as they approached an empty section of the park, where the two alien princes were to be sent home. Jack could see the disconsolate look on his father's face, and the injuries littering his skin. Clad in black and green and gold, he was in the strangest garb the winter spirit had ever beheld; something quite obviously of Asgard.

And he was pale. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or the sheer volume of dark colours he had draped himself in, but his father looked as if he was dying all over again. His complexion was the same as when he had been stabbed in the side; when he had been bleeding all over Jack's mother's dress.

He hadn't meant to stand so close to the man, but he could hardly help it. Not when this was Jack Frost seeing the man he'd loved and lost for the first time, _properly_ , in three-hundred years. Now coupled with his revelations and memories, Jack could truly appreciate who he was, and mourn what he had become.

Of course, coming into such proximity with the man had Loki jerking, going from passive to defensive in but a second, eyes wide and startled. No doubt, if his mouth hadn't been covered and his hands bound, he'd have lashed out both verbally and physically. He'd done that to Jack before.

It hurt Jack now, did the fact his father didn't know him, more so than it ever had before. Of course it did. It was stupid to think that just because Jack recognised him meant Loki did, too. Loki, Jack suddenly recalled, even blamed the winter spirit for his own death. He didn't realise who the sprite was before, and surely that hadn't changed.

Loki was now clawing at his gag, desperation fuelling his every move, until his cheeks were further scratched by his nails and his nails were torn by his useless attempts at freeing himself from the metal.

"What is he doing?" Tony Stark wondered aloud, and Jack echoed his sentiment.

"Brother?" Thor asked, trying to restrain his sibling from any further self-inflicted damage.

Loki looked to Thor sorrowfully, and it threw the man, as if Loki had not asked for his help in a long time. Considering the path Loki had taken, Jack considered that was very likely.

Thor, however, could not grant Loki his wish. "I'm sorry, but I cannot."

Jack, on the other hand, was under no such moral obligations.

A single touch to the metal of the gag had Loki shattering it in under a minute, and immediately the Avengers - or, at least three of them, had their weapons ready and aimed at the alien. The human Hulk was twitching next to a very put out looking Iron Man.

"Loki," Thor warned, confused and furious, but Loki had no time for him. His gaze was, as it always was, trained solidly upon where Jack stood, and Jack was taken aback by the emotions suddenly flooding those empty green eyes.

Loki reached out, but Jack stepped back. He remembered they'd parted uneasily before, and since then Loki had attacked a human city and killed hundreds of people. Jack loved his father, but he was coming to realise that he did not know him anymore.

"Jack," The man breathed, and his voice was straight from one of Jack's memories: soft, and loving, with a hint of ever-present disbelief. "Jack."

"Father," he returned, wishing his voice reach Loki for once, but it never did. His father knew him! Against everything he'd thought just minutes before, Loki _knew who he was_!

"Jack?" Thor questioned. "You refer to the spirit?" Then something dawned on him. Something terrible and heartbreaking which played torment on his face. "Jackson."

Loki didn't listen. Loki simply stared to the blank space where he couldn't see Jack, but could feel him.

"I have to leave now," he breathed into the gap between them as Thor regretfully pulled him away. "I don't know when I'll be back. Keep well."

Jack could do nothing as his family was taken from him in a blaze of light, and his insides churned with a thousand different emotions, all of which centred around his father.

One was confusion, and one was fury. How did he know now, and if he knew _why did he leave willingly_? Another was glad, because out there his father lived on, and another was sorrow, because he had no promise of ever seeing him again.

But he'd be back, Jack said to himself, even as he unleashed his frustrations by causing an impromptu blizzard and upsetting each Avengers' day. Loki always found his way back.

\--

The weather was getting colder, and Jack had been discussing with Emma and Abigail the possibility of going skating that day.

"Well, alright. It's likely frozen by now." Abigail sighed.

They stopped talking suddenly when Loki stepped into the room, eying the children suspiciously.

"No skating on the lake." He said, pointing a stern finger, and Jack groaned.

"We'll be fine! We do it every year!"

"Which is another way to tempt the fates. One day you'll come to regret it."

"Please, papa?" Emma inserted, looking up at him with her pretty little soulful eyes, and Loki sneered before turning away. Even he wasn't capable of saying 'no' directly to that face.

"Stop being overprotective." Abigail said instead, passing him a satchel packed with food and bait.

"It would not be safe for me to worry whilst I'm armed and in the vicinity of your father . Concern makes me twitchy, as you are aware. _Anything_ could happen."

Abigail glared, threatening, "Nothing _will_ happen to either of you. And nothing will happen to them, either, so calm yourself, husband. You will go out and enjoy yourself and bond, even if it's the last thing you do."

"Only if you ensure the children stay off the lake."

"Fine." Abigail lied through her teeth, face completely devoid of tells as she did so, but Loki was the one who taught her that face and he always knew when any of them were lying. He said it was just one of those tricks he'd picked up in his travels. Not even Emma believed that one.

Loki snatched the satchel from his wife's hands and glared down at his offspring, but knowing it was pointless to continue into an argument, he instead said his farewells.  "I have to leave now. I don't know when I'll be back." He looked defeated as he knew the two of them would find themselves playing at the lake before the day was done. "Keep well."

They nodded and waved him off, watching as he moodily joined his father and brothers-in-law for the annual hunt. Next year Jack might even accompany them.

"We're going now, too." He said, and their mother nodded, kissing their foreheads.

"Your father means well." She assured them, but Jack and Emma already knew that. That wasn't going to stop them from skating, however.

Not today, when the sun was shining, the air was crisp, and nothing could go wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> These have gotten longer and longer. X)  
> Okay, now I think I'm finished with this series now, but we'll see. It's unlikely that I'll write another one now that I've finished this.  
> Also, thank you for any of you who's reviewed or left kudos on any of this series. I'm really grateful to you all.


End file.
